Hunting the Wolf: Insurrection
by The thousandth son
Summary: When  your father executes dozens of people, don't expect to live very long. Dennis fic
1. Spur Of The Moment

DENNIS

He clutched the side of the speedboat's hull. They had gotten this far out of dumb luck. Reefs, islands and all streamed past him, he was just under the water, and could feel the engine, grabbing on to the barnacles attached to the hull, he slowly climbed down, it was a three mile long drop (for a fish)the currents howled around him as he climbed on a harrowing climb straight down, when he was under the hull, his hands holding on to the barnacles were the only thing keeping him on the boat. His feet dangled over the huge drop, he swung, using the barnacles like monkey bars.

_Almost there…_

His hand reached out for anther, it was too far, he slipped. Dennis franticly grabbed it, but hung by one hand to the bottom of the speeding boat. Pulling his feet up so he was bracing them against a clam attached to the boat, he launched himself through the air, at the plastic bag that was half submerged at the fore of the speedboat.

_Cant let a job go unfinished…_

As he leaped through the water, his hands shot out, grasping one of the handles, and pulling the thing under. He almost fell, but the bag held onto the spar. He pulled himself above the water, where the man driving the boat sat. sneaking past him, Dennis the Bounty Hunter saw the fishing line trailing in the water.

He hauled on the bag until it gave way. Bunching it up and grabbing the massive thing in his left hand, he leaped to the line.

The Ten-Pound-Test, fishing line held under his weight, a he slid down it towards the waves. When he entered the water again, he kept sliding down the fishing line,

_There_.

The town sped below him, he waited until he could see the 'Krusty Krab' below him, then…jumped.

As he shot through the air, he grabbed both handles on the plastic bag, and let go of the folds.

The makeshift parachute billowed up behind him, slowing his decent to a fast float, rather than a murderous drop.

As the landscape rushed up to meet him, Dennis let go of the bag, hitting the ground at a run, he burst into the Krusty Krab.

It was empty, save for a single red crab in corporate casual clothes sweeping up from the remnants of what looked like the most baby-ish part ever.

_He was too late_.

Walking up to the crab, he growled, "You seen a yellow square kid and a sea star so fat he has a moon?"

The crab leaned on his broom. "Aye, they went to the goofy goober's restaurant to party, though you look like someone who wouldn't be caught dead in that place." Said the crab, referring to the tough-guy look.

Dennis thanked the crustacean and left.

Man he missed his wheels, that bike would have helped a hell of a lot now.

He did not feel very imposing while he stepped out of the taxi cab, arguing over the price.

Scooting around to the back of the restaurant, the Bounty Hunter loaded the revolver in his right hand. Stepping in, he noticed with disdain how the whole establishment just screamed 'baby' With it's silly dancing peanut and its toys for sale. He entered the bar around back, where a waiter was stirring up drinks.

"You seen a sponge in here?" he asked glancing around in vain for an alcoholic drink. While he might not be paid for this hit, it was a matter of professional pride now.

"Yeah, he's the big man in the restaurant here. God, I hate working here" Grumbled the waiter.

Dennis nodded, "Good man"

He walked around backstage while he snuck up on the Starfish and sponge, he took stock of his surroundings. The FOOLS were dancing with a robot peanut of all things. He raised his revolver.

Lining up the iron sights, he clicked back the hammer with his thumb and squeezed the trigger…

"STOP!" a waiter was running towards him, glancing over, he saw the waiter dive for Dennis's gun hand. The man hit him a moment later, the revolver discharged. The peanut went flying, the bullet had hit its 'head' and the robot went down, flying off of the stage and into the terrified children and parents.

Dennis and the waiter struggled until the bounty hunter put his knee in the man's gut. As the waiter doubled over, Dennis saw the kid staring at him in disbelief.

"You…you…you killed Goofy Goober!" sobbed the sponge.

Dennis kicked the waiter away, the starfish was running at dennis, murder in his eyes.

"YOU KILLED GOOFY GOOBER, YOU DOO-DOO HEAD!" Screamed Patrick. Bringing up the pistol, Dennis shot the sea star clean through his fat stomach. Patrick screamed in pain and fell off the stage, landing on a table and splattering the eaters with Triple Gooberberry Sunrise.

"PATRICK!" screamed the yellow cube. Dennis leveled the weapon again, shooting he sponge in the arm, then the leg, then the chest. Realizing that he was low on ammunition, dennis sighted the revolver at Spongebob's head, as the stumbling, sobbing poriferian bled like crazy. A massive weight slammed into Dennis.

The club bouncer.

The man was a massive blue whale, armed with a chair in one hand, and a brass-knuckled fist in the other.

Taken unawares, Dennis felt a flurry of blows rain on his face for what felt like eternity, all he remembered was pressing the magnum up against the whale's chest, pulling the trigger once, twice, feeling the blood seep onto his fingerless gloves, kneeing the man in the groin, shoving him off of him, and making a break for the door.

When Dennis rushed out, looking for all the world like a deranged psycho, several police boats were pulling up outside, sprinting to a back ally, Dennis hauled himself to the roof.

Mr Krabs hurried to the hospital, Sandy and a protesting Squidward in tow, word had gotten out that Spongebob had gotten hit when a gunman burst into Goofy Goober's and shot up the place, Patrick was apparently in a coma and the bouncer of the club was killed when he assaulted the Gun-Wielding nutcase.

When they got to the room that Spongebob and Patrick were located in, they filed in slowly, a pair of cots, a pair of televisions, a magazine stand and several other pieces of furniture adorned the spartan room. The Sponge was in a leg and arm cast, and his chest was swaddled in bandages, apparently the 'Patrick is in a coma' part was a rumor, because he was up but connected to several IVs

"Hey guys" said Spongebob weakly.

Squidward began reading some magazines and sandy and Mr Krabs walked to Spongebob's cot.

"Howdy Spongebob." Said Sandy "How yall feeling?"

Spongebob put a hopeful smile on his face. "The doctor says I can be out by tomorrow!"

_BIKINI BOTTOM: SLUMS_

Dennis sat and contemplated what he had done. Those FOOLS had pull with the king as far as he knew. That mad Dennis a hunted man, of course, he had spent his life, since age 14 being hunted, but this would be worse.

As long as the king was alive…Dennis's life was forfeit…the king had to go.

His daughter too.


	2. All The Little Angels'

'BLUE MOON ON THE RISE'

**Thanks to all the reviewers! That really got me happy, so I decided to get to work on this chappie early! **

**I am including a OC here that is a tribute to a character in an RPG that is on a forum H4WX and me are members of (You are the only one who will get the joke, H4WX, well, maybe Tyranic Marta, but he doesn't like SB fanfictions)**

**Now to answer questions from all my wonderful reviewers.**

**Icearrows: Yup, this will be a decent-sized fic, but the early chapters will revolve around Dennis and his group of 'friends' SB will be featured prominently though. **

Dennis glanced around the bar.

Yellow light filled the room with a homey glow, well, homey for people like Dennis, it was built pretty much like the Thug Tug, several Harleys where parked out back. A pool table sat in the corner of the room, several guys hitting the billiards like there was no tomorrow.

A figure, a medium-sized grouper entered the bar, this one wore a loose aviator's jacket over fractured camo, combat boots of a boring brown and a pair of drab grey pants, filled with pockets, filled to the brim.

Dennis nodded imperceptibly and removed his bandana, not much under it but what he had when all that business with the boot at shell city happened…

The Grouper came ambling over, hands in his pockets, sitting down, he fiddled with a small item around his neck, a shark tooth necklace.

"Bluemoon Peirce." Greeted Dennis, proffering his right hand. "Havn't seen you since…a while."

"Dennis." Nodded the Grouper. "I hear we have a mutual dislike for a certain someone."

"I'd say so, yes" said Dennis, neutrally.

Bluemoon leaned in "Cut the crap man, I got a new plan"

"Oh," said Dennis, smirking. "You mean that 'plan Z' bullshrimp you pulled didn't work?"

Bluemoon grinned sheepishly, not anything to scoff at when you're a fish with a mouth the size of a dinner plate.

"How was _I_ supposed to know that miserable speck would hire you?"

Dennis glared at the fish, "just tell us what you got on the royal family."

Bluemoon tugged at the sharktooth necklace for a second "Alright." He pulled out a messy folder from his aviator's jacket and put down the list. "Neptune, then there's Mindy, that's his heir, Triton is the second kid, kind of distant so we take him out first, but keep a level head, lastly, we got Amphitrite, probably got to whack her and the big N at the same time."

Dennis was not liking this. "Listen, we gotta bide our time, Amphitrite is down with the flu I hear, slip something into her drinks…no more Amphitrite." We got to take out Mindy and triton after a helluva lot of thought though."

"Whatever." Said Bluemoon, "We know how to do this…just…there are some impatient elements in our 'group' if you get my meaning."

"All right," muttered Dennis. "Let's just meet up somewhere else next time, this is too public."

"Warehouse 346, by the docks"

**~III~**

In the pitch black warehouse, a singe orange light no bigger than a penny flared. A tendril of smoke reached for the ceiling.

"Put that out, idiot!" hissed a deeper voice, with an edge of malice to it.

A younger voice answered from the vicinity of the cigarette. "F**k you, poisonspikes."

The voice belonging to 'poisonspikes' hissed back. "If you don't put that out _right now_ I will shove it up your-."

"shut up you two," Said a newer voice, this one a female's "I'm turning on the lights"

"Thank Neptune." Muttered the voice of the smoker.

"Don't you say that damnable name!" shouted the deep voice.

A clicking, unmistakable for anything but a weapon, sent a deep silence crashing down.

"Shut up." Said the voice of the one evidently holding the gun.

The lights turned on, or rather, the oil lamps. Revealing five fish.

A trout in a long trench coat puffing on a cigarette.

An almost fragile looking Dace hwith high-heeled boots and designer cloths.

A large stonefish in a Bulletproof vest and camo pants, glaring daggers at the smoker, who was showing him a certain digit on his right fin.

Bluemoon, snoozing in the corner, and a shadowy figure in long robes and a hood, pointing an M-4 assault rifle at the stonefish menacingly, the weapon had a silver cross emblazoned on it.

"Quelling this heresy that this 'king' spreads is the only thing that matters, not your petty arguments." Hissed the cowled figure, "I have sent for aid, we will get it" the cowl spoke in a voice that sounded somewhat like an Englishman.

The others looked skeptical, obviously not as ferverous as the Cowl. They did not say anything however, another pair of cowled figures walked in, the difference between them and the other, was that while the apparent leader of the robed group, the one with the rifle, had gold trim on the cloak and an ornate longsword sheathed at his side, these wore simply grey robes, and carried only daggers.

"Lord Purifier Marilius," greeted one in an accent that radiated southern hospitality.

The other , lower-ranking robe bowed at the apparent leader. "We live to serve my lord" this sounded a bit strange, as the voice sounded undoubtedly from the County Down.

The 'Lord Purifyier' hissed at the group of irregulars. "We will not waste time bickering amongst ourselves, I bid you good day…for now."

When the three robed figures had left, the stonefish glared at the Dace. "B*tch, those ones are trouble."

The Dace simply muttered something along the lines of 'get hooked' and stalked over to Bluemoon, who had slept through the entire thing.


End file.
